A Canadian Heroine, Volume 2 eBook

The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that
he should like him, he became perfectly content.
His property was entirely in his own power, and one
of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously,
to make a will which was to relieve him of all future
trouble about its disposal; his next to begin a regular
course of instruction, intended to fit his grandson
perfectly for the succession which was now settled
upon him.

In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice
grew accustomed to Hunsdon and to the sober routine
of an invalid’s life. It was not a bright
existence, certainly. The large empty house looked
dreary and deserted; and the library to which Mr.
Beresford was carried every morning, and where he
lay all day immovable on his sofa, had the quiet dulness
of aspect which belongs to an invalid’s room.
There had been some few visitors since Maurice’s
arrival, and what neighbours there were within a reasonable
distance seemed disposed to be as friendly as possible;
but still the monotony of this new life left him enough,
and more than enough, leisure for speculations on
the past and future, which had a large mixture of
disturbing and uneasy thoughts to qualify their brightness.
He waited, too, with considerable curiosity for the
return of his cousin, who, with her husband, was away
from home when he arrived. She had married a
neighbouring baronet, and when at home was a frequent
visitor at Hunsdon; and this was all that Maurice could
learn about her.

But one morning, as he sat with Mr. Beresford, and
the usual daily conversation, or rather lecture, about
some affairs connected with the management of the
estate was in full progress, a pony-carriage swept
past the windows and stopped at the door.

“It is Louisa,” said Mr. Beresford, and
the next minute the door of the room opened, and a
little woman came in. She was so very little,
that if she had chosen, she might have passed for
a child; but she had no such idea. On the contrary,
she had a way of enveloping herself in sweeping draperies
and flowing robes that gave her a look of being much
taller and infinitely more dignified than Nature had
intended. She came in, in a kind of cloud, through
which Maurice only distinguished an exceedingly pretty
bright face, and a quantity of fair hair, together
with a sort of soft feminine atmosphere which seemed
all at once to brighten the dull room as she went
straight up to her grandfather’s sofa, and bent
down to give him a kiss.